A long time ago.... before magic was hidden. The time when dragons soared overhead... and centaurs galloped across the land below. Magic was a trade, an art, and a bargain....
"Gran-ny! Can't you skip the old stuff and get to the magic?"
Renelda Montgomery squinted at the young colt rolling restlessly on the grass in front of her.
"Do you want to hear the rest of the story? Respect your elders, boy!" she drew a large breath to continue her dramatic tale of glory, when she was interrupted again.
"Gran-NY! I just wanna hear the stuff about the MAGIC! Will you PLEASE tell me about it?" the boy begged.
Renelda sighed.
"Boy, magic is all around. You being alive is a wonder. And the fact that your loud mouth hasn't alerted the whole nation to the existence of centaurs is a miracle in itself!"
"Gran-NY." he whined. "I want to know about magic and learn how to use the elements. Like the old Mages--OW!"
He rubbed behind his ear where Granny had yanked his hair.
"Peaches and Cream, child. You tryin' to get your parents mad at me? You'll land yourself in the Pits with all that curiosity! Forget about magic child. Focus on the herd. After all, when you grow up, responsibility will fall to you."
The small centaur rolled over groaning, his gangly legs flying into the air, hands outstretched.
His hair was a fiery orange that mimicked the patches of his lower body. Granny Renelda patted it down gently and the boy scowled, then reached up and jammed his small hands into the orange, making it stick up as the big curls got tangled.
His mouth twisted in a frustrated frown.
"Why does everyone make a fuss about the stupid herd. My dad's not gonna die or nothin."
"Peaches and Cream, boy!"
"Why do you say that so often?"
"I wouldn't have to if it wasn't your pelt I thought of when I think about trouble!" Renelda snapped.
The boy's frown morphed into a crooked grin.
"Trouble?" he asked innocently, his crooked grin morphing into a chaotic one. "I would NEVER."
"HAWTHORNE!" several disturbed birds screeched as they left the surrounding trees.
"Uh-oh."
"Is that why you volunteered to spend time with me boy? There isn't a force of nature on this planet that could stop your mother." Granny snorted.
"Uh-huh." The small centaurs legs got tangled as he tried to make a desperate escape.
"HAWTHORNE MONTGOMERY!"
"Humor me, child. How on earth did you vex Ginger so?"
The boy sighed as he pushed himself upright, shaking his hoofs separately to get them ready to run.
"She was talking about people watching and I might have....gotten upset."
"Oh, really?"
"And...I maybe might have ripped out a couple roses... " he kicked at the ground with his front hoofs.
Renelda went pale.
"Hawthorne, you know what those mean to your mother."
"She just made me so mad!"
"HAWTHORNE!"
A shadow stretched over him and he looked up at his mother, her nostrils flaring, orange hair wild and messy.
"I-I'm sorry..." he mumbled weakly.
"Ginger, girl." Granny warned. "He's only a boy. Don't be too hard on him. Hes your son and those plants are only a representation of a different time."
"A better time." Ginger snapped.
Hawthorne jerked back like he'd been stung or bit.
He might be young, but his mother's meaning was clear. Those flowers meant more than he did, because they were her replacement for what should have been.
"We'll see what your father has to say about it when he gets home."
It was said matter-of-factly, but Hawthorne felt fences go up in his mind, barbed wire reaching out from every side.
If he wasn't what they wanted, then he didn't have to do what they told him to.
"Let's go, Hawthorne." his mother grabbed his arm and began to trot.
Her red hot anger becoming something icy and dangerous.
Hawthorne stole a look at granny, who was watching him with sad eyes.
Her story rang in his head. If magic was real, then Hawthorne would bring it back and use it to destroy the barbed fences.
And roam free without his parents or some stupid destiny on his head.